


Just Desserts

by Doctor_Discord



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Chronic Pain, Fear, Head Injury, Kidnapping, Knives, Major Character Injury, Panic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 15:33:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29456052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doctor_Discord/pseuds/Doctor_Discord
Summary: Dark wakes up alone in an unfamiliar place, confused and in pain, with no idea of what happened.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	Just Desserts

He didn’t know where he was.

Dark woke with a soft grunt of pain, head throbbing, tongue thick in in his mouth. There was a dull ringing in his ears, but it wasn’t the soft ringing that usually followed him around. This was internal. He felt – _disoriented_ , confused, his broken body _aching_ , moreso than usual, and that damned _ringing_ only exacerbated the _throbbing_ in his skull.

With another soft grunt, Dark tried to shift position, tried to lie down, take some of the pressure off his shoulders. It took a minute for those thoughts to fully register in his own head. …He’d been asleep, right? So…why wasn’t he _already_ lying down? And what pressure would there _be_ on his shoulders, even if he _was_ sitting for whatever reason. There _shouldn’t_ be. And yet there was, his arms hands pulled behind him awkwardly, the position sending jolts of pain prickling through his shattered and dislocated shoulders with every slight shift. 

…What had _happened?_ Where was…

Panic was beginning to build in Dark’s chest, though it was slow, _too_ slow, but _stifling_ nonetheless as he found he had no way to _express_ that panic. His body wasn’t responding, not really, still waking up and lagging behind his mind. Though his rising panic was helping, even as a weight, an unbearable _pressure_ was building in his chest. He needed to _move_ , needed to _wake up_ , needed to _do_ **something** –

Finally, _finally_ , Dark’s eyelids began fluttering. He struggled to get them open, and it took longer than he was able to stand, but once they were open, he _kept_ them open, ignoring the lethargy in his body that wanted to drag them shut again. Next, he worked on lifting his head, his chin resting against his chest and straining his broken neck. Another slow process, but it went quicker as his body woke further.

Eyes open, head lifted, Dark was finally able to try and piece together whatever the _Hell_ was going on.

He was in – some…house? A tug on his wrists and a glance up revealed he was tied to a pillar, some ornamental structural support. A glance to his right revealed some sort of open living room, with a fireplace and a big TV and visible hallways leading around both sides of that wall the fireplace was embedded in that presumably went to the rest of the house. To his left, there was an equally open kitchen, and a door to what looked like a back porch. It – looked like a nice place. Dark himself sat on a hardwood floor, feet bare, and – wearing his _pajamas_. Why – what _happened?!_ Why did his head hurt so Goddamn _bad_ , where the fuck _was he?!_

Dark was breathing hard, hyperventilating, before he truly realized what he was doing. That panic had escalated into _fear_ , as he kicked out and _struggled_ , heels digging into the floor, ignoring the pain as he tugged sharply on his bound wrists, ignoring how the rope grated against his skin. As more of his senses came back to him, he realized he was _gagged_ as well, a thick wad of cloth shoved in his mouth, another strip of cloth tied around his head to keep him from spitting it out. His eyes were blown _wide_ , a desperate, almost _animalistic_ look in them as he tried to _break free_ –

He swallowed hard, breathing heavily but shakily through his nose as he _forced_ himself to calm down. He could break out of this. He had his aura, nothing could hold him long if he just _focused_. He was fucking _Darkiplier_. A bit of rope and cloth couldn’t keep him prisoner.

He closed his eyes, leaning his head back gently against the pillar.

He flexed his aura, imagining the living shadow coiling around him, imaging it snapping the ropes, tearing through his gag. Imaging it _freeing_ him.

He imagined, but…

_Nothing happened_.

Dark’s eyes snapped open again, and his head whipped around, his feet scrabbling against the floor as he twisted and tried to catch a glimpse of his ever-present aura swirling behind him. Usually, it was _always_ visible, at least in his peripherals. It was _impossible_ to miss, especially in daylight like it was. Where _was_ it, where was his aura, this was impossible, this couldn’t be happening, it couldn’t just be –

_…gone._

Dark couldn’t help it. He made a broken, _terrified_ sound, mostly muffled by the gag, as he slumped against the pillar. He pulled his knees up to his chest, burying his face between them, and tried not to outright _sob_ as the fearful tears began to slide down his cheeks. His body _burned_ as he fell still, every joint and broken bone _alight_ with _agony_ from his struggling, and Dark could only curse this mangled corpse he called a body as a single sob broke through.

_And then a door opened_.

Dark’s head shot up, trying desperately to stop his tears, as he heard a door open and slam shut somewhere. There was nothing else, save for the distant sounds of creaking floors that gave away movement. Dark’s breath caught in a lump in his throat, dread and fear and anxiety and panic and _terror_ all settling and pooling solid in his gut. He wanted to throw up. He wanted to _run_. He wanted to _breathe_ , but he couldn’t do _any_ of those things as the creaking grw louder, and footsteps began to reach his ears. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t have his aura, his power was _gone_ , what _could_ he do, he was _frozen_ , stiff, _trapped_ –

He saw red.

Red, silken fabric, an all too familiar robe suddenly in his field of vision. A man with bare feet, that _Godforsaken robe_ , and slicked back hair. His back was to Dark, he couldn’t see his face. He didn’t _need_ to.

And then he saw the _black_.

An aura. _Dark’s_ aura, that beautiful, _powerful_ mass of writhing, swirling, living shadow surrounding _his_ body. Like it was _his_ to control. Dark’s eyes narrowed as he watched the hypnotic swirling, watched _him_ waltz about the kitchen, looking for something, that fucking _robe_ swishing about his ankles. He let his fury overtake _everything_ else. Fury was easy. _Rage_ was easy. Dark knew rage.

_Fear_ he was less sure of.

And as the man turned around, Dark made _sure_ to shove that fear deep, _deep_ down.

“Oh good! You’re awake!” The Actor stepped closer, and crouched down in front of him, grinning wide, and tilting his head. Dark _snarled_ , trying to curl up further, to get _away_ from him, but his attempt only made the Actor laugh and ruffle his hair. “I knew Celine couldn’t have _all_ the fire in the family, hm, Damien? You just need a little more time to light.” His grin grew wider, entering the territory of _grotesque_. “How did you sleep? Good, I hope? Perhaps not; I _did_ hit you rather hard…” His hand suddenly cupped the back of Dark’s head, pulling a startled, pained cry from Dark as whatever wound was there _burned_ at his touch. The Actor only shrugged. “I _tried_ to get you while you were sleeping naturally, but you woke up as I was dragging you down the hallway. Good thing that friend of yours keeps a bat in his room, hm?” He winked, pulling his hand back away, and Dark scowled.

Dark made some sound through his gag, some attempt at words, but then the Actor’s hand was covering his mouth and pressing his head _hard_ against the back of the pillar, aggravating that wound further. “ _Shhhh_ , Damien, there’s no point. That gag’s not coming out. I know how good you are with your words, you’re not sweet talking your way out of this.” He shifted his hand to pat Dark’s cheek twice, and Dark watching as what should be _his_ aura curl around the Actor’s arm loosely, something so _familiar_ to Dark he felt the phantom sensations along his own arm.

The Actor caught him staring, and turned to look over his shoulder, then _grinned_. “Oh, I bet your wondering how _this_ happened.” His grin turned _cold_ , his eyes colder, _dead_ , empty. “Long and the short of it? That little _thing_ with you? That little power source that helped you keep running? Kept you from falling apart?” He leaned in close, gripping Dark’s jaw, and whispering into his ear. “It’s _mine_ now, Damien. And mine alone.” A deranged, _mad_ little chuckle escaped him. “You’re all alone in there now. Two broken souls, in a broken body, with nothing to help filter their pain. I wonder if I…”

The Actor pulled back, and Dark didn’t have time to even _think_ about the glint in his eyes before he was _slamming_ his fist onto Dark’s left shoulder, the one with the shattered socket, and Dark _screamed_ through his gag, every thought and emotion and _feeling_ in his body overridden by _agony_. The ringing in his ears only grew stronger, _deafening_ , but he still heard the Actor’s delighted laugh, and he did the same to Dark’s other shoulder, the one dislocated, and the force of Dark’s screams and sobs hurt his chest. He didn’t dare move, not with his wrists bound as they were, he didn’t want to injure his shoulders any further. The rest of his body felt _numb_ in the wake of the _wave_ of _agony_ , tears pouring down his face. Two hits and already he felt _so_ close to passing out…

“Ah ah ah, wakey wakey, Damien, stay with me.” The Actor was patting his cheek again, a little rougher, and Dark let out a weak sound, trying to turn away. He’d let his head simply dropped back to his chest, but the Actor’s other hand fisted tight in his hair made that impossible. Dark wanted to pass out. He _wanted_ to pass out, he wanted to _escape_ this all, he wanted this to just be some fucked up nightmare…

The distant, red glow in the Actor’s eyes, however, was all _too_ real.

The Actor made a pitying noise, giving Dark a mocking pout as he dropped his hair in favor of holding Dark’s chin, forcing him to keep eye contact. “Aww, no need to look so _forlorn_ , Damien! We’re going to have so much _fun!_ When was the last time it was just the three of us together?” 

Dark shot the Actor the strongest glare he could muster, but it fell on blind eyes as the Actor’s grin returned. “So much fun…for _me_ , at least… _Finally_ , I can get my just desserts…”

He slowly pulled a large kitchen knife from a pocket of his robe.

Dark watched in slow motion, helpless, broken, _alone_.

He didn’t have time to panic before the Actor was shoving the blade through the center of his chest with one, powerful _push_.

He couldn’t scream. He couldn’t feel the pain. It was a strange feeling, as he felt the blade pierce through the skin of his back. His eyes wide. Breathing halted. It was a _pulse_ in his chest, like the illusion of his long-dead heart still beating out a rhythm. The Actor leaned forward, _sliding_ the blade deeper into Dark’s flesh, his breath a ghost on Dark’s skin, his voice a whisper barely audible through the cacophony of _nothing_ in his skull..

“ _Let’s begin, shall we?_ ”

**Author's Note:**

> Tbh, I can't remember why I wrote this skdfgnskd but I hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Tumblr: doctordiscord123.tumblr.com


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